


Holding Pattern

by burntcopper



Category: Doctor Who, Torchwood
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-09
Updated: 2011-09-09
Packaged: 2017-10-23 14:23:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/251302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burntcopper/pseuds/burntcopper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years, they told him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holding Pattern

**Author's Note:**

> (this was written before Torchwood first aired, after it was announced)

Jack wakes up. The knock-out drugs, or whatever they used to knock him out, always make him fuzzy, and it's like emerging from a black pit every time. He tries to remember what happened just before he was knocked out, but there's nothing there. No trace of memory. Which is just wrong. It's horrible, in fact. He relies on his memory to tell him if a place is dangerous, if he's been there before, what time disruptions are going through and if a place is safe. And there's just nothing there to tell him what happened before he got knocked out. There's plenty of other memories; never let it be said that Captain Jack Harkness didn't know how to live his life so it was full of enough memories to burst some peoples' heads. It's just that there's this gap, and that's wrong on so many levels it gives him the shivers. He doesn't let it show on his face, of course, at least not before he opens his eyes. He'll pretend the disorientation is down to the drugs, or concussion, or whatever it is he's got. But he won't let them see that he's worried. He levers his eyes open, wincing slightly at the bright light reflecting off the surroundings. It's definitely some sort of hospital. Squinting slightly and turning his head, he recognises the Time Agency's medical suite.

Standing over him are people that look official. Neither are medical personnel, though there appears to be a nurse hovering in the background.

"What happened? How did I get here?" He asks.

Official number one looks a little uncomfortable. "There was an accident."

"What kind of accident? I sure as hell can't remember anything about it."

"I'm afraid we can't tell you. There are quite a few things we can't tell you, actually." Official two, who's sporting a moustache, says. He doesn't look uncomfortable. A little disapproving combined with slightly apologetic, maybe, but not uncomfortable. It either means he's made up his mind or doesn't let little things like morals play a part in how he does things.

"A few? Sounds bad."

"It's worse than you know. I'm sorry, Jack, but we had to take your memory."

"You… you took my memory?" Jack can't help swallowing at that one. He knows there are tools to do that, but he never imagined them being used on him. "Why? What happened?"

"Again, we can't tell you. But the extent of memory loss is greater than you might think at first. There were things that happened that we cannot tell you about, and neither can anyone else." More disapproving looks.

"Did something happen to me?" Jack asks. No response. "Did I do something?" The 'no response' silence is a bit deeper and more meaningful this time, so either they're trying to freak him out or he did do something. Only they're not saying what, so it looks like it was bad, whatever it was. Spying? Traitor? Survivor of a tragedy so traumatic that it'd send him to a padded cell? He stops the inner questions and looks at them straight on. "So tell me, how much are we talking here? A week? A month?"

"Two years." Official one says. "We had to take two years. I'm sorry, Captain Harkness."

"Two years?" Jack says faintly. "You're kidding, right?"

"Afraid not." Official two states. "You'll recuperate here until you get your head back together, then we'll be preparing you for your next mission."

"Back in the saddle, huh?" Jack says, latching onto the beacon of familiarity being held out to him. "I can do that."

Unfortunately, 'back in the saddle' doesn't quite work. Other agents are uncomfortable around a man who's had his memories forcibly removed, and his own discomfort is affecting his work. He's not doing a bad job, it's just that he's taking risks. More risks than he used to, trying to make new memories. It unnerves people a little. Soon enough he can see the higher-ups getting uncomfortable with him, to the point where he can see the baby jobs and training post looming up on him; it's that or they force him to resign. Before that can happen, he decides to strike out on his own. Resigning's not as bad as he thought it would be in the time before the memory loss. He's a good Time Agent. One of the best in terms of skill and know-how, and he knows how to lose himself in the timestream, taking some personal items with him that'll help him set up on his own.

\----

"Are you sure this is the right thing to do?"

"He's essential to the survival of the Earth and the human race."

\----

He falls into the con-man business almost by accident. He's always got by on his charm at least as much as his brain, and he's never been averse to flirting and seduction to make a transaction or mission easier. Sometimes it's providing a distraction and sometimes it helps soften an official up. It's just a matter of applying those talents for a different cause.

Sometimes he doesn't even bother conning people, sometimes he'll get involved with things just for the experience and the adventures that take him from one side of the universe to the other, from the dawn of time to the end of it, anything to fill up his brain and distract him from those missing years.

\----

"Two years. We'll tell him it was two years. It's a reasonable amount of time for an operation to have been going on."

\----

Jack shifts a bit in the somewhat cramped conditions of the shelter. "Would you mind not doing that, old boy?" The officer next to him says. "Some of us are trying to get some sleep here. You're making it impossible with your fidgeting."

"Just trying to get comfortable." Jack says. The cots they've set up aren't the worst he's ever had to sleep on in his time. Not even in the top twenty. He just can't seem to drop off. He's not quite sure why, since he's slept through his share of bombing raids, hurricanes, medieval banquets, and even a Renthorian wedding, which normally involves a speech at full volume every ten minutes and constant hitting of a large gong. He was a little drunk and getting over a bout of flu at the time, so he's not entirely sure that one counts. Possibly it’s because he's currently not fixed on his next course of action. It's not often that he doesn't have some sort of plan set up. He's been in London for a few weeks now, posing as an American officer. It's not too bad, and the transitory nature of life at this place and time in history makes for easier scam setting up.

"I'm afraid that's going to be beyond our reach tonight. I suggest stopping fidgeting or joining the game of poker that's going on in the corner if you can't. Losing your money might settle you." The officer puts his head down and closes his eyes.

Jack decides to give up on sleep and take the officer's advice, sitting up and shifting to the end of cot so he can put his feet down, moving over to the small folding card table lit by a lamp in the corner of the room. "Any chance of being dealt in?"

One of the officers glances up. "I'm afraid we're only playing for matchsticks currently."

Jack reaches into his pocket and pulls out the box of matches in there, dropping them onto the table and sits down. "Deal me in. Jack Harkness, by the way."

"Um. Algie Little." He scoots over a little, giving Jack more room, and gives him a tentative smile.

Jack smiles back. If he's not mistaken, he's got a new distraction on the cards.

\----

"Won't he guess?"

"It's a constant. This does not change."

\----

Jack shades his eyes. The glare coming off the white sand and sea is pretty bright, and his sunglasses are somewhere with his clothes. Too far to stretch, since he's warm and comfortable. He lifts his head up slightly, cricking his neck, then laying it back on what's serving as his pillow. Namely, Rose's stomach.

Rose bats his head, then ruffles his hair. "You know I hate it when you do that."

"Hey, my neck was getting stiff." He tilts his head back to look at her. It's a very nice view. "Did anyone ever point out that you need to wear bikinis more often?"

"You've said it three times. Think that counts." She grins. "You need to wear trunks more often. Or maybe cut-offs. Show off your legs."

"And of course my fabulous arse. So we're agreed, new uniforms for the gorgeous companions of Time Lords are mandatory." He pauses. "Do you think we'll be able to get him into something similar?"

Rose screws up her face. "I think it'll be tough. Plus, he'd have to stick with trousers."

"True." Jack sighs. "Much as I love him, his legs are not his best feature." The time the Doctor had to wear Tudor clothing is still burned onto their brains. Boots to cover his legs were found very, very quickly. Jack raises his hand again to squint. "Where do you think he got to?"

"Said something about this planet's version of ice cream and that we'd have to try it." Rose says. "How long d'you suppose the queue is?"

"Too bloody long, is what." A voice says to one side. They look up to see the Doctor approaching, three ice cream things in hand and fully clothed. However, he's conceded to the heat and he's wearing a linen suit. There were some mutterings about cricket whites, but Rose had just raised an eyebrow and said the suit was better than cricket whites any day. "You better appreciate these, you lazy sods."

Rose tilts her sunglasses down. "Well, if they're as good as you say you are, we will. Though," she says, warning note creeping in, "If these are anything like those sweets you made me eat on Halspanto, you are so dead."

Jack raises a lazy hand for his. "Down here, Doctor."

"Ruddy packhorse, I am." The Doctor sighs, sitting down and handing them their snacks. "Remind me why I keep you two around?"

"We're very pretty." Rose says and they turn identical mischevious grins on him. The Doctor just rolls his eyes and shifts so he's more comfy. Jack turns his attention to his ice cream thing. He's right, it turns out. Not bad.

\----

"What about the Doctor's involvement?"

"All accounted for. Even the Time Lords cannot change some things."

\----

Jack's in the bar of a hotel in Crickhowell when he sees what's obviously an agent of some sort walk through the door. You can spot them a mile off sometimes.

The agent goes up to the bar, gets a drink, then walks over to Jack's table. "I presume this seat is free?"

"Knock yourself out." Jack replies, picking up his drink and taking a sip. He's aware the agent's checking him out, so he smiles back automatically. He's not that interested, but hey, if there's enough of a spark. On the other hand, there's the agent factor. But ulterior motives never got in the way of some seriously good sex. Sometimes it's even better when both sides know there's ulterior motives as the reason; seeing how far you can push, seeing who's going to blink first. Jack's blinked a few times. You can't play this game without ever blinking, there's always going to be some angle you just don't see or anticipate, but he's always thought that's half the fun of it.

At the end of the drink, the agent gets up. Jack raises an eyebrow. "I thought you wanted to talk to me. Tracking me down to here took some effort. Wouldn't want to waste that." 'Here' is a small town in South Wales, near Brecon.

"We've kept tabs on you. You're not that difficult to find, Harkness. Check your phone. There's an offer on there." He shoves his hands into his pockets. "Call ourselves Torchwood. We'll be seeing you soon."

Jack blinks and watches the agent leave, then pulls out his phone. As he said, new text message. Which contains a phone number and 'we have reason to believe you'd be useful.' Hmm. Well, they've definitely piqued his interest. He gets up, walks out into the garden and dials.

\----

"He's not ageing? Why isn't he ageing?"

"Either it's a side-effect of the backlash or being resurrected by the Bad Wolf. Either way, he's not ageing. However, it's not noticeable for the time he's out there."

\----

"Jack, you might want to see this." Gwen says as he walks into the Torchwood control room.

"See what?" Jack asks, coming over to look at the news feed. That's when he spots the pictures coming in. Rose Tyler and the new incarnation of the Doctor. He'd seen pictures of the new version, most recently seen at Christmas with the Prime Minister. No contact, though. He doubts they even know he's in this century, since the last time he saw them was in the Game Station just before he went off to certain death. Several of the staff try not to mention the Doctor around him, but it got so irritating that he put up a large picture of the TARDIS on the door with a smiley face scribbled on it. "Doctor's back. Any idea what it's about?"

"Who knows what it's about with the Doctor." Patterson drawls. He's ex-UNIT, seen many different Doctors come and go. "One time he was here for two days at a funfair and spent the time doing nothing but the rides. He did the teacup ride five times in a row. That was the one who wore cricket whites. Another time the TARDIS appeared in the middle of Sellafield, the Doctor walked out, barged past a bunch of security and scientists, pressed a few buttons, smiled at everyone and left. Turned out they were ten minutes away from a rather nasty systems failure. That was the short one with the umbrella, had a habit of doing that kind of thing." He pauses, looking up from the screen. "I have a tenner on inconsequential that turns out to be desperately serious."

Gwen glares at him. "Have you actually anything useful to add?"

Jack rolls his eyes, pulling out his mobile. "Tell me you two are going to have sex sometime soon to stop the sniping."

"My parents had a disturbingly healthy sex life and it never stopped their sniping." Howell says from the other side of the room. "Don't have sex, if only because it'll ruin our gossip pool."

Gwen turns her head as Jack finishes dialling. "Who're you calling?"

"Someone who might have some info." Jack says, waiting for the pick-up. "Rose! What're you and the Doctor doing in Lancashire?"

"...Jack?"

"The same." He grins. "If you tell me you didn't miss me you're lying. What happened to his ears? I liked those ears, they were cute."

"Regeneration is what he says, though I personally think he's had them pinned back." There's the sound of her blowing a raspberry. "Go away, I'm talking to Jack, you can get your turn in a minute."

"And the leather jacket?"

"Jack, if you want the bloody jacket, you can have it." A new voice says into the phone. Presumably the new Doctor. "First, you have to answer a deep and meaningful question that might shake the pillars of the universe."

Rose snatches it back, if the sounds of a scuffle are anything to go by. "What he wants to know is where you put the blue pillowcases after the last laundry load you did. He still can't find them. Honestly, he'd lose his own head if it wasn't screwed on."

"Bottom of the laundry cupboard, I'd expect." Jack says, grinning. Somehow their conversations have a tendency to degenerate into the domestic. "What I'm not telling you is which laundry cupboard."

"There's more than one?" The Doctor groans in the background. Jack looks up to see the assembled audience staring at him in disbelief. He just continues grinning, listening to the squabble at the other end.

\----

"The backlash from the Time War put him in stasis. Is it safe to remove him?"

"Actually, it's necessary. We're recently discovered records that tell us releasing him back into time - after taking certain steps - will have absolutely no ill effects on him. However, we'll have to erase certain memories."

\----

The Doctor's trying to hustle everyone into the TARDIS. The Torchwood people, the family in the caravan with their dog that won't stop whining and smells like a rug that's been dragged through a garbage heap, Rose, Jack and the Doctor, all scrambling to get inside the TARDIS, away from the storm and widening gap that hurts your eyes and mind to look at on the horizon, and that scream that sounds almost exactly like a few thousand teenage girls at a boyband concert.

They've almost got everyone in when the little girl starts wailing and tries to get back outside - there's still two Torchwood people to get in - darting between their legs and tripping them up. "Teddy! I dropped my teddy outside!"

Rose grabs her, scooping her up off the ground and stuffing her under one arm. "Oh no you don't."

"But I want Teddy!"

"Teddy's gone, we'll get you a new one." Rose says firmly, trying to keep her voice level. She's had practice at it. There's only so many near-death situations and time distortions you can go through before the urge to panic in front of other people can be tamped down enough to function and you get to be known as the level-headed one. She doesn't put the little girl down, knowing that any loosening of grip that'd happen in handing her over to someone else to hold will result in a little girl breaking free in search of Teddy. "Jack, how much time do we have?"

"A minute, maybe two." He says, tapping the readout on his wrist. He sweeps the last two Torchwood agents in, poking his head outside to check for anything they've missed, trying not to look at the widening maw on the horizon. He slams the door shut, then looks at Rose and grins. "Another victory snatched from the jaws of defeat."

She grins back. "Team Supreme, that's us."

"Teddy!" The bundle under her arm wails, batting at Rose.

"Someone give this to her mother, will you?" Rose says, thrusting her at the nearest vaguely adult-looking person, then hugging Jack, turning her head to try and see the Doctor, who's fiddling with the interface. "Doctor? Are we ready to go?"

"Not yet, I'm afraid." He says, grimly, setting his jaw, "The TARDIS is locked onto something." He jabs his fingers at a button or two, trying to get a reading of what's outside, then he groans as it comes up. "It's that fucking teddy bear, it's somehow locked onto it and it's holding us in place. We can't get away unless we get rid of that damn bear. I always said they were a bad idea. What's wrong with making the most popular furry stuffed animal a guinea pig? Guinea pigs never ate anyone or dismembered them." Pause. "Well, except for that mutated one on zeta four that was definitely trying."

"A teddy bear's keeping us locked in place?" One of the Torchwood lot asks. "You're kidding."

"The Doctor never kids about this kind of thing." Rose says firmly. "It's life-or-death situations only, not time-obliterating ones. How much time do we have left and how do we get rid of it?"

The Doctor shakes himself off, straightening his jacket. "About a minute. Someone has to go out there and get it." He starts striding toward the door. "Rose, you keep everyone together and make sure they get home safe. Jack, you work the TARDIS, she likes you. You've been a very bad influence. Take care of each other, all right?"

"You're not going out there." Rose gasps. "Doctor, it's suicide!"

"I've had plenty of lives and you lot're only just beginning yours." He looks at the grandad of the family. "Well, except you, but if you apes will insist on smoking, it's your own fault."

He's reaching for the door when Jack blocks his way. "Oh no you don't, these people need you. The universe needs you."

"Jack, if I don't go out there, we're going to die." The Doctor states.

"We're going to die if *someone* doesn't go out there." Jack corrects him. "I'm expendable, you're not."

"Jack, no!" Rose says. "You can't - not again -"

He pulls her over. "Rose, I'm not letting either of you sacrifice yourselves. Not when there's another option." He puts both hands on her face, kissing her, then grabbing the Doctor and doing the same. "Something about this situation seems awfully familiar." Jack grins, turns and opens the door, slamming it behind him before they can grab him. Turning round, he sees the teddy bear. It's somehow stuck against the side of the TARDIS by the storm. He turns his head, looking at the horizon. It's not really the horizon anymore, more like the front door, it's that close, and it's taken on a sucking quality. He turns back, pulling at the bear. It's like pulling a strong magnet off a fridge. When it's off, he vaporizes it with his sonic blaster for good measure. He's reaching for the door of the TARDIS when the screaming intensifies and all he can suddenly see is purple.

Inside the TARDIS, the Doctor yells "He's done it!" as the center of the machine flashes up all kinds of bells and whistles, and it starts to move. That's when the force-wave hits, and everyone's thrown to the floor.

Rose picks herself up, dazed. "Doctor? What about Jack?"

"I'm searching, Rose, I'm bloody searching, you don't think I am?" The Doctor says, teeth gritted as he hauls himself up by the boards, hitting levers and buttons, scanning for all he's worth, urging the TARDIS' sensors to find some trace, any trace of their friend. After several frantic minutes of beeping and flashing lights, the Doctor slumps, hanging his head.

Rose moves to his side, trying to figure out what the output is saying. "Doctor?"

"Nothing. There's nothing. Not a trace. Not one single, solitary smidgen. He's gone, Rose. It's like the bloody Time War all over again." He shakes his head. "He's been wiped completely from there. There's even traces of the sodding teddy bear, a few molecules with sonic slicing where he must've blasted it. Nothing of Jack. Not even a sodding smile, can't even have the decency to do a Cheshire Cat."

Rose swallows, hugging herself. "Any chance of being able to look? Where are we?"

"Didn't get the chance to move. The TARDIS' defences kicked in, the wave washed over us..." Rose punches a few buttons, trying to bring up a picture of outside. "Huh."

"What's 'huh' mean?" The grandad of caravan-family asks from where he's sitting on the floor, rubbing his arm.

"Huh is what he says when he's so stunned by his own brain he can't believe he's had an original thought." Rose snarks.

"Actually, 'huh' is when I'm struck by something I can't quite believe. Which is quite silly, considering the length, depth and breadth of my experience." The Doctor says. "You'd think I'd be less surprised. But then where would the fun be without the surprise?" He gets up, walks over to the door and flings it open. Outside is clear. It looks exactly like it did. "Birds tweeting. Nice breeze."

Rose pokes her head out of the TARDIS. "But no Jack. Where is he? How can he not be here? And everything else is?"

The Doctor shoves his hands in his pockets. "He must've taken the effects of the wave at full force. Add to that him being a regular time traveller and -" one hand comes out of its pocket and makes a wavey gesture that ends up in a fist, then dives back into the pocket again.

"Can't we pop back and grab him?" Rose asks.

"Need I remind someone of a certain episode concerning their father?" The Doctor says. "Besides, he was hit in the middle of a time rupture. We couldn't get in there as it is. Or was. Or will be."

"So he's just... gone?" Rose asks.

"Yeah." He reaches out and hugs her. "Going out in exactly the way he did last time, saving people and snogging us both on the way out. Only this time you haven't got your phenomenal cosmic power to get him back."

"Fuck. I want to say it's not fair." Rose says, trying to blink back the tears fast approaching.

"Only I taught you better than that." The Doctor says. He squeezes her, then looks up to see the caravan family looking out from the TARDIS anxiously. "Oh, and you lot can fuck off out of my sight." He grins, rather nastily. "Let this be a lesson to you about the dangers of teddy bears."

\----

The Time Agency's a hive of activity, trying to repair rips and retrieve things hit by vortexes; you name it, they do it. "Got a signal - fuck, it's Harkness."

"What's he doing there?"

"Must've got hit by one of those eddies going through, poor bastard. Looks fairly normal, though." They tap the comms button. "Sir, we've just found Captain Harkness in there. Is it safe to bring him into this time and space?"

"Checking... Go ahead." There's a pause. "There's a flag here on his file. Someone must have put it there for a reason, to alert them when he came through. Oh well, someone must want to talk to him. Pull him out."

\----

"Loop established."

\----

Jack wakes up. The knock-out drugs, or whatever they used to knock him out, always make him fuzzy, and it's like emerging from a black pit every time. He tries to remember what happened just before he was knocked out, but there's nothing there.

\----

"He's going to be caught in an eternal loop."

"It's the price we have to pay for the continuation of existence."

"And no-one's going to notice, or have anything go wrong."

"You've viewed what happens. Even with the presence of the Doctor, this doesn't change. We remove Jack Harkness from the area just before the time vortex hits, remove his memories and let him go his merry way. The Doctor and Rose Tyler won't look for him, believing him obliterated by the vortex. He's gone, after all."

"But why isn't he ageing?"

"Jack was originally hit by a time anomaly - we believe it was backlash from the Time War - and placed in stasis. That was when we discovered he wasn't ageing, and the loop. It was merely a matter of waking him up and setting him loose. The backlash also ceased his ageing. An infinite loop."

"An infinite loop."

\----

Jack shoves his hands in his pockets and looks at the sky for a moment. The smoke from the chimneys billows against the red glow of sunset. In about half an hour, the air raid siren's due to go off, heralding the first bombing run by the Germans that's the start of the Blitz. Hundreds going to be killed, according to the records of this time. Not enough shelters, not enough time for people to run. Still, he can't do anything about it, so no use worrying too much about it. He's got a fairly comfortable life at the moment. He's in a holding pattern right now, but he's enjoying it and knows something'll come his way soon enough.

END


End file.
